


Hallow's Eve

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-23
Updated: 2006-02-22
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: "Impaled" challenge (But hold your horses; we're going to take our sweet time getting to the elements.) (10/06/2002)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta reader(s): Thank you, Sarah and Kat. Special thanks and chocolate to Kim, who gave Deep Massage!Beta.   


* * *

Captain Jonathan Archer was pacing. 

Hoshi was watching him, wondering how long it would take to wear out the carpeting in the hallway outside his quarters. From what she could see, he had a pretty good head start on treading footprints right into the beige carpet. 

"Sir?" she hesitated. 

He stopped short and whirled to face her. "Hoshi, go down to Lieutenant Reed's quarters, and find out what's keeping him. And find Mr. Tucker as well, and inform them both that they are inexcusably late for the Astaar briefing." 

She nodded, relieved. As she retreated, Archer poked impatiently at a nearby telecomm and barked, "Archer to Reed. Where the hell are you?" 

***

The door slid shut behind them and Malcolm immediately grabbed Trip's face and pulled it down to his. He began kissing Trip, raining tiny little nibbling kisses along Trip's cheek, his chin and his lips. Trip tried to capture Malcolm's mouth, to give it the serious kissing it deserved, but Malcolm ducked away to nibble on his neck. Trip groaned. 

"Malcolm--" The words died in his throat as Malcolm's lips reached his ear. Teeth gently sank into his earlobe, and the gusts of breath in his ear sent shivers down his spine. Malcolm's hands were on him, stroking his chest, clasping the side of his face, running through his hair. Sensory overload in one minute flat. 

Finally Trip gathered his wits and grasped Malcolm firmly, one hand at his waist and the other at the back of his neck, pulling him in. Their lips met, and then Malcolm's tongue was enthusiastically greeting his. About damn time. 

It seemed like forever since they'd been alone. The night before had been Movie Night, which Malcolm had refused to miss. He had promised *Travis*. Now granted, Trip had reluctantly agreed with Malcolm that they should keep their relationship behind closed doors, but did Malcolm have to act that cool around him? The man barely acknowledged his existence all evening. He sat with Travis, ate popcorn with Travis, joked and chuckled with Travis. 

Today, Trip had been stuck on the bridge for his entire shift, along with Malcolm, as the bridge crew ran the ship through its paces. Trip could barely keep his eyes off of Malcolm as they went through the exercises. Did the man have to bend over so many times? At last the captain was satisfied, and everyone had been excused for the evening. everyone, that is, except for those who were due in the captain's quarters for the Astaar briefing. 

Trip wondered if Malcolm would acknowledge him during the briefing. 

He was making damn sure Malcolm was acknowledging him now. Acknowledging the tongue in his mouth, the hands on his body, the hips rubbing against him, the ready-for-action erection pressing into him. Trip could feel the warmth flowing from Malcolm's body, through their uniforms, the heat seeping into his bones. 

They broke off the kiss to breathe, pressing their cheeks together as they panted. "God, Trip, I want you," Malcolm murmured to him, his voice low and silky. "Your body feels so damn good." He shifted his weight, rubbing himself against Trip suggestively as he spoke. 

Trip couldn't help saying, "Oh, so now you want me." 

Malcolm stepped back, as if a bucket of ice had been dumped on his head. "Trip, you know how I feel about--" 

"I know, I know." Trip felt a little guilty. Just a little. "Do you really think that if we sat *next* to each other at the movie last night, folks would automatically think we were doin' each other?" 

Malcolm took Trip's face in his hands. "Oh, hell, Trip. I'm sorry. But you don't understand--if I had sat next you I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself." 

Trip was slightly mollified. "I make you that horny?" 

Malcolm took Trip's hand and placed it on his groin. The grey-blue eyes were twinkling. "You tell me, Mr. Tucker." 

Trip cupped the hard cock in his hand and squeezed. Malcolm closed his eyes and arched his back toward him. Trip was captivated by Malcolm's reaction to his touch. He leaned in and nuzzled the side of Malcolm's neck. Then he licked, tasting Malcolm's sweat, his very essence. Malcolm moaned softly, tilting his head to expose more skin. This time Trip ran his tongue from the edge of Malcolm's collar up to his jaw, then up along his face to his forehead. Malcolm reached up and licked Trip's tongue, then they were kissing again. 

They had been lovers for a couple of months now, yet Trip was still amazed by Malcolm's sensuality. When he first met the ship's armory officer he thought him the archetypal uptight Brit. But in private, behind closed doors, Trip discovered the man was anything but. Much to his unending delight. 

Without breaking off the kiss Malcolm began unzipping Trip's uniform. Trip eagerly went for Malcolm's zipper. They fumbled and tussled over the recalcitrant clothing, laughing through their kiss. 

"Get out of that uniform right this instant, Commander," Malcolm ordered, his face flushed with laughter and passion. He fussed with his own uniform and at last got the zipper working. 

"Yessir." Trip gave a little salute, causing Malcolm to actually giggle. 

Trip divested himself of his clothes as quickly as possible, yanking his arms out of the sleeves of his coveralls and trying to remove his briefs, shoes and socks in one sweeping motion. He wasn't anywhere near successful, and sat abruptly on the bed to untangle the bunched-up clothing. 

He got one leg free when he noticed Malcolm standing in front of him, arms folded against his chest, wearing only a raging hard-on. "I'm workin' on it, all right?" Trip said, unable to take his eyes off of Malcolm. He looked so good. So horny. So tasty. Malcolm took another step forward and Trip lost interest in his uniform, and instead slid down on his knees, hugging Malcolm's hips close, burying his face in Malcolm's groin. He breathed deeply, taking in Malcolm's scent, enjoying the feel of the prickly curls against his face. His slid his hands down the cleft of Malcolm's ass, rubbing his fingers against the tightly puckered hole. Malcolm's fingers began to dance along his head, touching his hair. 

"Please, Trip--that is so--" Malcolm moaned, "heavenly." 

Trip grinned. Heavenly? Trip ran his lips along Malcolm's hot shaft, swirling his tongue before moving back up to the damp tip. He licked again and took it into his mouth. Malcolm bit his bottom lip, his hips trembling, moving in tiny thrusts toward him. Trip sucked Malcolm's shaft deep into his mouth and released it, dragging his tongue along the smooth hard flesh. 

Then it slipped from his mouth as Malcolm knelt in front of him. "You have the most amazing mouth," Malcolm told him. He kissed the mouth in question. "I find myself watching it all day, while we are on duty." He kissed Trip again. "The way you smile." Another kiss. "The way you laugh." Yet another kiss. "The way you suck on my cock." He ran his hands down Trip's naked chest, toying with his nipples and moving down to touch Trip's cock. 

Could have fooled me, a little voice said, but Trip forced the thought out of his head when he felt Malcolm's hands on him. God, it felt good. So good. After so much wanting. So much needing. He leaned back against the bed, exulting in Malcolm's touch. He couldn't imagine how he had ever lived without it. He closed his eyes as Malcolm kissed him again, opening his mouth to Malcolm's exploring tongue. 

Then Malcolm was reaching under the bed, pressing his chest against him. "What--?" Trip asked, rather breathlessly. Now was no time to be worrying about dust bunnies. 

"Look what we have here." Malcolm held up the lube. "We've been looking for this." 

Trip snorted. "Must have gotten knocked aside in a moment of..." He trailed off as Malcolm straddled his lap. 

"Hot monkey sex?" Malcolm finished for him. 

Trip burst out laughing, and watched with a bemused smile as Malcolm squeezed the gel onto his lover's fingers. Malcolm looked up with a smile. 

"Not being terribly subtle here, am I, Mr. Tucker?" 

"You're about as subtle as a train wreck." Trip put his hand around Malcolm ass, and then stroked a finger into Malcolm's anus. Malcolm let out a small hiss, and Trip started to pull his finger out, only to find Malcolm's hand clamped onto his arm. 

"That was a 'God damn that feels bloody good' sound, Trip. Don't you dare stop," Malcolm whispered into his ear. 

"It was kinda quiet," Trip said, although he was only half-teasing. "Maybe next time you could make it louder?" 

In response, Malcolm licked his ear. Trip pressed another finger into the small, tight space and it slipped in easily. Malcolm panted into his ear. Then Trip felt cool, slick hands stroking his own cock. 

"Ready?" he grunted. It was so hot, having Malcolm on his lap like this, his fingers up Malcolm's ass. He could get off by just doing the prep work. 

"Good to go," Malcolm said briskly. 

Trip supported Malcolm by the hips, helping him get into position. He was slowly engulfed by Malcolm's heat as the man pushed down, impaling himself on Trip's cock. He watched Malcolm's face as he worked his way down, arms braced on Trip's chest. Trip loved this position, loved being able to watch Malcolm, loved to let Malcolm take control. 

Then he was inside Malcolm, utterly and completely. He felt the shocks of pleasure spreading through his body, white hot, almost impossible to control. Trip moaned. "Goddamn, Malcolm." 

Malcolm whispered Trip's name, a blissful smile on his face, and then Malcolm was moving on him, rocking his hips. Trip gasped at the pleasure jolting through him. It was filling him, making him cry out Malcolm's name. 

"Shhhh, love," Malcolm whispered, and Trip tried to swallow his cry. He tried not to be too loud; he didn't want anyone to hear. Or at least, *Malcolm* didn't want anyone to hear. 

Trip solved the problem by grabbing Malcolm's head and kissing him furiously, his moans swallowed by the sweating, trembling man on top of him. 

He began thrusting upward into Malcolm, first gently, then harder and harder. As they rocked together, he vaguely wondered if he was getting rug burn on his ass, wondered why they hadn't made it to the bed. 

Malcolm groaned deeply in his throat, then bit down on his lip. He's holding back the moans, Trip realized. He won't let himself cry out. 

It was suddenly very important to Trip that Malcolm should surrender every ounce of his damned British reserve. He wanted Malcolm to scream his name, so that people all over the spaceship would hear it and would know that Malcolm loved him. 

Trip took it upon himself to make Malcolm lose control. He pushed himself in to the hilt, then pulled out entirely, then shoved himself in again. He gyrated his hips; he sped up, then slowed down, then sped up his thrusts. He ran his slippery palm over Malcolm's cock, squeezing his fingers closed and stroking with the firm pressure Malcolm preferred. He tried every trick in his repertoire. Malcolm's eyes were rolling and still, he bit down on his lip. A drop of blood appeared where his teeth met his own flesh, but still he did not make a sound. 

Goddammit, Trip thought. Who the hell cares, Malcolm? Who is going to give a rats ass if they hear when you. 

Then he stopped thinking altogether as the waves of pleasure merged into one and he came long and hard. 

Afterwards Malcolm was slumped against his chest, relaxed and boneless. Trip's hand was sticky and wet--he didn't even remember Malcolm coming. He hoped it had been good for him. Judging from the contentment radiating from the damp body against him, it was. 

" I seem to have rugburn on my knees," Malcolm announced. 

They reluctantly untangled themselves and climbed up onto the bed. Trip stretched out and hugged Malcolm close. He liked this part, almost more than he liked the sex. Just being close, feeling good, cuddling. They lay quietly for only a moment before Malcolm sat up and reached for his briefs. 

"Malcolm," Trip began. 

"Trip, don't." Malcolm stood and pulled on the underwear. "We're due in the captain's quarters for our briefing and I suspect we're already late." 

"Oh hell, Malcolm. Just once I'd like to make the captain wait." 

"Yes, that's a good policy to adopt while flying through unexplored space," Malcolm said dryly. 

"I'm just saying it would be nice if-" 

"If what?" Malcolm interrupted. "If we lie here in each other's arms and drift to sleep, not caring that other people are counting on us?" 

Oh. Time to get snide now was it? "I see," Trip said slowly. "I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough to sleep with." 

Reaching for his uniform, Malcolm froze as if he'd been struck. The hurt shone in his eyes. "Damn you Trip! You know that's not it." 

"I know. You just don't want me bein' seen leavin' your quarters. You know, I'm only down the other corridor, I think I could make it there without being seen." Trip stood up, arms akimbo. "I guess I better leave right now then, just to be on the safe side, don'tcha think?" He grabbed his clothes from the floor. "Don't wanna be givin' people *ideas*. Don't want the captain to think we came to his briefing *together*." 

"Trip, you're being unreasonable-" 

"Nope. Gotta go. Have things to do, ya know?" Trip finally freed his briefs from the tangled uniform, and put them on. Christ, he was still sticky. He grabbed Malcolm's discarded uniform and wiped his hand on it, knowing that it would irritate the fastidious man. 

"Arg! Trip! What are you doing! There are towels in the lav--you are such a bastard." 

"There!" Trip flung the uniform at his lover. "Now everyone will know where you've been and what you've been doing!" 

Trip attempted to put on his uniform. The pant legs were inside out, it seemed. He pulled them through, only to find one was still wrong side out. "God damn it!" 

Frustrated beyond tolerance, Trip didn't see Malcolm's face. Didn't see Malcolm stand up, throw the uniform aside and stalk toward him. The next thing Trip knew, Malcolm had whirled him around, opened the door and shoved him hard. 

The door closed, and Trip found himself alone in the hallway. He stepped forward and pounded on the door. "Son of a bi-" 

"Trip?" 

He heard the timid, female voice and his racing heart nearly stopped in his chest. He turned to see Hoshi standing there, her cheeks flaming red. 

She met his gaze only briefly before dropping her eyes to the floor. "The captain sent me. You and Malcolm are late for the briefing." 

With an exasperated sigh, Trip held his bunched up uniform over his groin and muttered, "Yeah, yeah. Give me a couple minutes." 

"Okay," she said quietly. "Um. what about Malcolm?" 

"What about him?" Trip spat. "Let him figure it out on his own." 

Knowing that she was staring, he stalked past her and didn't slow down until he was at his own quarters. Inside his room, he pulled a fresh uniform from the closet and put it on, trying desperately not to think about what had just transpired between him and Malcolm. Instead, he concentrated on Astaar, the planet he would be exploring the next morning. 

Willing himself to slow his ragged breathing, he concentrated on what they knew about Astaar. The planet resembled Earth in many ways. There were tree-like growths. There were big cities and little towns. A High Council had welcomed their hail and invited them to visit their world. 

Normally, he would be excited to be going on the away mission; tonight, however, all he felt was defeated. 

He walked quickly to the Captain's quarters, and accepted Archer's reprimand with a muttered, "I'm sorry, Cap'n." He took his seat around the table, where T'Pol and Hoshi were already seated. Hoshi was still flushed. 

A moment later, Malcolm arrived. Although he wore a fresh uniform and had combed his hair, he looked like hell. "I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't feeling well." 

Archer nodded tersely. "Let's begin, shall we?" 

"Yes, sir." Malcolm found the seat furthest from Trip and sat down. Malcolm's face was pale and his jaw clenched tightly. 

Trip swallowed hard against the lump that rose in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

Normally, Trip would be thrilled exploring a new world. But this time, as he stood on the landing platform, waiting for the strangers to approach, all he could think of was the man standing beside him. Oblivious to the rest of his crewmates, he could keenly hear Malcolm's shallow breaths. Trip wasn't aware of the artificial sun's heat, but he was highly aware of the coldness coming from his lover. 

He shook his head to clear it, as The High Council, dressed in violet robes, stopped in front of their visitors and nodded in greeting. 

The Counselor, an elder by the looks of his long, white beard, stepped ahead of his peers and held out his hand for Archer to shake. Put a plaid shirt on the guy, and he'd bear a striking resemblance to Trip's grandpa. 

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," the elder said. "I am Narak." 

"Captain Jonathan Archer," Jon greeted. "The feeling is mutual. Thank you for allowing us into your home." One by one, he introduced his crew members. Narak introduced his cabinet, but Trip's thoughts wandered back to the man standing at his right. He sneaked a glance at Malcolm, but Malcolm's face was politely blank. 

Was he feeling anything? Was he at all upset about their argument the night before? 

Trip obsessed about this, barely hearing the elder as he detailed the planet's history. He caught bits and pieces of the conversation; something about a world war between themselves and other ruthless inhabitants that had left most of the planet in smoking ruins. 

Trip wondered what would happen if he just reached over and took Malcolm's hand. His fingers twitched at the thought. 

Trip shook himself from his reverie in time to hear Narak ask, "We hope you'll be able to stay for at least a few days?" 

"Thank you," Archer said. "We would like that." 

"We don't have many visitors," the Counselor said. "Since our war, we have been wary of company. But of course, we were delighted to hear you were from Earth." 

"I'm amazed at the similarity between your planet and ours," Archer said. "Particularly the similarities between yourselves and Americans." 

"Yes," Narak said gleefully. "After the revolution between the Tarats and ourselves, we had to rebuild from the ground up. I had read about Earth in a Vulcan history once. They had extensive notes about a land where the earth brought forth grains and where the leaves changed colors and fell away from their mother tree. Where children played and dressed up in fierce costumes." 

Archer cleared his throat. "I believe you're talking about Halloween. It only happens once a year." 

"Halloween." The Counselor spoke the word slowly. "Well, here we have it every night. This is not a place where we wish our dreams to end. We fought too much and lost too many to have it be any less than blissful." 

"How wonderful," Archer said. T'Pol raised her eyebrow at him, unconvinced of its wonderfulness. 

"There is no crime here," said the Counselor cheerfully. "Children may roam the streets after dark without fear. So we celebrate with an everlasting Halloween. Would you care to join us this evening? Halloween is celebrated by young and old." 

"You mean, we can go trick or treating?" Hoshi asked, her eyes lighting. 

"Of course," the counselor smiled. "Although I should warn you, there are no tricks to our Halloween. Only treats." 

While Narak had talked, the group had made their way to a courtyard. Now they stood surrounded by blooming rose bushes and gazing up at a statue of a beautiful woman, her gaze raised upward as if beseeching the heavens. Her arms were outstretched, her alabaster skin flawless and smooth. Her robe draped around her, puddling around her feet. 

"This was Miera," Narak explained. "She was our queen. No, she was much more than that. She was our goddess, our sun, our moon, our very reason for existence." 

"What happened to her?" Archer asked, and Narak's eyes left the statue reluctantly. "She was killed by the Tarats during our world war. It was her death that prompted our people to surge forth and fight. We had not taken up our swords before Miera's death. We are a peaceful people. But we realized, with this tragedy, that it was time for us to defend our queen's honor." 

He held out his arm, gesturing to the towering palace behind him. "If you'd like, I'll show you to the quarters we've prepared for you. Perhaps you'd like to go for a walk or rest a bit before dinner?" 

Archer nodded on behalf of his crew. "Thank you." 

Narak held out his hand and magically, a group of children scampered into the courtyard. They were beautiful children, their clothing neat and pressed, their hair combed. Their hands were folded behind their backs. 

"Allow our children to show you to your accommodations." 

The children each grasped an adult's hand and led them toward the palace in front of them. Trip watched as the little girl who'd been talking to Malcolm took his hand, graced him with a dazzling smile, then led him back into the courtyard, chatting excitedly the entire time. 

Trip wanted to follow him, but he felt a tug on his pants leg, found himself gazing down at a boy of about six. 

"I will take you to your room, Commander." 

They walked into the palace and down a seemingly endless corridor, with the boy grinning at Trip but not speaking. Turning left, they began another corridor. The boy still did not speak, and Trip grew uncomfortable with the silence. 

"Hi, there," Trip said. "What's your name?" 

"Tores," the boy replied shyly. "It's an honor to walk beside you, Commander. I want to someday be a great man like you." 

"Great man?" Trip repeated. "I don't know if people would agree with that." One person, he thought, in particular, might have a strong objection. 

"How can you say that?" the boy exclaimed. "You explore the stars! You challenge the boundaries of the universe. You are endlessly brave!" 

Trip gave him a sidelong glance. "Sheesh, you talk old for a kid. Just how old are you?" 

Trip didn't receive his reply, for at that moment they arrived at his quarters. 

The room was the most exquisite Trip had ever seen. The floors were covered in a rich marble, the walls a dark cherry-colored wood. The bed alone was the size of his quarters, and a colossal bowl of exotic and strange-looking fruits-- more food than Trip could eat in a week- sat atop the bed covering. 

"Wow," he said to the boy. "This is great." 

The boy nodded and said, "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Will you..." He swallowed, then dropped his eyes to the floor. "Will you sit by me at supper?" 

Trip smiled. "Why, sure." 

The boy's face lit up and he ran out of the room, so excited he forgot to close the heavy wood door. Chuckling, Trip reached to close the door, then thought better of it. 

Maybe it was time he see just how brave he really was. 

Outside, the grass was green, the sky was blue, and the leaves still clinging to the trees were brilliant shades of orange and red. 

It was something a human could appreciate after being in space for so long. 

And, with the exception of the bubble overhead, which kept the piped-in oxygen from escaping into the atmosphere, it pretty much felt like home. Trip could almost imagine the scent of crisp, autumn air, the smell of burning leaves. 

He found himself in the courtyard again, where he could see the group of children, Tores among them, happily delving into the biggest pumpkin he'd ever seen. Each child held a shiny metal instrument that looked like a cross between a butcher knife and a corkscrew. 

Malcolm was stooped down in front of the children, a smile parting his lips. "What have you got there?" 

"Punkin," said a little girl, before any of her little friends had a chance to reply. "We're going to make it a jackerlantern." 

"A handsome jack-o-lantern," he agreed. She beamed at him, then returned to her work, concentrating on the triangular eye she was trying to cut. Malcolm stood and met Trip's gaze, a veil of indifference falling over Malcolm's face. "Excuse me, sir." 

"Actually, Lieutenant, I was wondering if I might have a word with you," Trip said. 

"Certainly." Malcolm stiffly rose and walked away, not waiting for Trip to keep up. 

A few yard from the children, Trip lurched forward and grabbed malcolm's arm. "I think maybe we need to talk." 

"About?" 

He wasn't going to make it easy. "About what happened last night," Trip said. "About us." 

The hardness in Malcolm's face drained away, leaving behind a man who was suddenly too pale, too exhausted. Malcolm rubbed his hands over his face. "Trip, I don't know if there even is an 'us.'" 

Trip's blood ran cold, and his fears were confirmed by the despondent look on Malcolm's face as they faced each other. 

"What the hell does that mean?" Trip whispered. 

"You want me to be something I'm not," Malcolm said. "You want me to flaunt our relationship, you want me to spend all my time with you, you want me to scream your name when we're making love-" 

"Well, I'm sorry!" Trip snapped. "Forgive me for wanting some kind of confirmation from you." 

"I spend all of my nights with you," Malcolm said. "What more confirmation do you need?" 

They stared each other down, their eyes brimming with pain and anger. Trip was the first one to look away. "I want someone who isn't ashamed of me." 

Malcolm gasped. His eyes were wounded, his hand absently covering his heart as if to protect it from the accusation. "How-- how could you ever think that?" 

"How could I not?" Trip was close to tears now, and he stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants to distract himself. 

"I'm not...ashamed." Malcolm said the word as if it burned his mouth to speak it. 

"Sure." Trip exhaled raggedly. Trip's eyes were glistening, but he forced a smile as he gazed at their surroundings. "I'll let you get back to your pumpkin." 

Malcolm raised his eyes. "The little girl reminds me of my sister when she was young. I suppose I'm a little homesick for my family." 

Trip nodded, but he'd lost the battle and a solitary tear was trickling down his cheek. "I thought I was your family." 

Malcolm did not speak, did not seem to react at all. The sinking sensation deepened, and finally, Trip whispered, "Did we just break up, Mal?" 

Malcolm placed his face in his hands. "I don't know," was his muffled reply.


	3. Chapter 3

"All I am saying, Captain, is that their behavior seems... overzealous." 

Jon rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. It, like the rest of the furniture in his quarters, was oversized, made out of a cherry-colored wood, and polished to a high gloss. "T'Pol, haven't you ever believed in basic human kindness? Doing unto others as you'd want them to do unto you? : 

She arched an eyebrow. "There is one problem with your assumption, Captain." 

"I'm sure you'll tell me what it is." 

"With permission, sir." 

"Go ahead, T'Pol. What's the problem with my assumption?" 

"You're assuming they're human, Captain." 

Jon was about to reply when he heard the knock at his door. "Enter," he called, and Trip stepped inside. The look on the younger man's face was enough to raise Jon to his feet. "Trip, what's wrong?" 

"Cap'n, I wanted to ask if I could be excused from tonight's dinner." 

Jon frowned. "I'd think that would insult our hosts, Trip." 

"Yes sir," Trip said, his voice trembling. "It's just that, ah... I have a headache." 

"Must be some hell of a headache, Trip," Jon commented. "You look like you're about to burst into tears." 

Trip cleared his throat. "No, sir." 

Sensing the potential for emotion, T'Pol excused herself and strode from the room without a word. Jon patted the seat next to him. "Want to talk about it?" 

"I'm just not feeling well, Cap'n." 

Jon nodded. "Does that have anything to do with Malcolm?" The look on the younger man's face confirmed it. 

"What happened?" Jon asked quietly, and Trip morosely shook his head. "I don't know exactly. It just fell apart." 

"Fell apart?" Jon repeated. "Trip. You didn't..." 

"Hell, you were the only one who knew about us, Jon. And if he'd known you knew, he would have had a fit. It was just getting too hard. I thought we wanted the same things when we started. I thought I wanted to keep it all a secret too, but after a few months, I got tired of playing around. Felt like I was holding a fist all the time, Cap'n. I just realized that there wasn't a damn thing wrong with what we were doing, and I just wanted to relax and let the chips fall. It's not like I wanted to make love to him against the wall in the corridor, Jon! It just would have been nice to have dinner with him once in awhile, or sit next to him during Movie Night." 

"And Malcolm...?" 

"When we passed each other in the hallways, he wouldn't look at me. Wouldn't look at me, Jon! He wouldn't sit next to me at the movies, he wouldn't acknowledge me. Do you have any idea what that feels like, to be ignored by someone who is supposed to love you?" 

Oh, once or twice, Jon thought. "I'm sure it was difficult," he said. "Perhaps Malcolm was just trying to keep up a professional appearance." 

"Or maybe he just didn't care enough." 

"Trip-" 

"I'm tired." There was so much more to the words than those that were spoken. Trip lowered his hand and whispered, "I can't do it, Cap. I can't look him in the eye and pass the bread at dinnertime and pretend that nothing's wrong." 

"Okay, listen, you rest tonight and we'll sort this out on the Enterprise." Jon stood up, straightening his spine. "We have a job to do here, Commander." 

Trip nodded. "Yes, Cap'n." He turned on his heel and Jon watched as his friend walked away. Trip seemed small suddenly, a shell of his former self. Jon wanted to follow him, to get him to talk. But they were on a mission; there was things to explore and to learn. And for now, Trip would have to face his demons alone. 

His thoughts were interrupted by another knock on the door. Upon his invitation, Narak stepped in, rolling in a large suitcase behind him. He grinned. "Your costume for this evening, Captain." 

***

The Enterprise crew members had been wined and dined, then escorted back to their rooms to change into their costumes. 

In his quarters, Trip tried valiantly to eat the food Tores brought him. The food looked amazing; there was a fresh salad, corn on the cob and something which appeared to be roast beef. A slice of apple pie completed the meal. It looked great, but Trip just couldn't bring himself to eat it. 

When Tores came back, the little boy's face was disappointed. "You didn't like the food?" 

It was then that Trip remembered his promise to the boy, that they would sit together at the evening meal. Obviously, Trip had not kept that promise, and had further hurt the little one by not eating the supper he'd provided. Now he would have to tell the boy he wasn't up to going trick-or-treating that evening. Guilt nagged at him, but the last thing he wanted to do was put on a stupid costume and frolic on a strange planet with Malcolm at his side. 

"I'm sorry, Tores," he said. "I'm just not feeling well." 

"Are you well enough to go trick-or-treating with me?" Tores asked hopefully. 

Trip shook his head. " I don't think I'll be joining you this evening." 

The boy looked as if he'd been slapped. "Yes, sir. I'm... I'm sorry." 

"Sorry?" 

"For bothering you," Tores whispered. His lower lip quivered, and he ducked his head. 

Oh, Lord, the kid was crying. 

"All right, all right," Trip said. "Jeez, don't do that. I'll go trick or treating with you." He sighed heavily, then nodded toward the black plastic bag the boy carried. "Is that my costume?" 

Tores' eyes shone brightly, his tears immediately forgotten. "Yes, Commander." 

"Oh, please, just... call me Trip." Trip opened the bag and peered inside. "What...? Is this... it?" 

***

The crew met in the Great Hall. Hoshi was dressed in a brown, potato-sack dress and adorned with a six-inch long wooden cross around her neck. Malcolm met her there, wearing a long, black cape and a white mask over the left side of his face. 

"Phantom of the Opera," he explained. "You?" 

"Joan of Arc," she said. 

"Ah." 

They were interrupted by a loud clanging behind them; when they turned around, they saw a fully-uniformed knight in shining armor. The knight approached them, his joints creaking metallically, and he lifted his face plate. 

"I cannot tell you how hot it is in here," Jon told them. 

A moment later, Trip appeared. They heard him before they saw him. 

"I don't believe I am doing this, I just don't. Tores, I must be losing my mind to think this is a good idea--" 

Trip entered the room, and his crewmates gasped in unison. 

Trip put his hands on his hips and snapped, "What the hell are you looking at?" 

They couldn't respond through the giggles that threatened to erupt. 

Trip reached under his tunic and gave his tights a good, firm yank. "These damn things keep giving me a wedgie." 

His friends lost it, and for a few moments, they roared in near-hysterical laughter while Trip just stood there, tapping his slippered foot against the floor and frowning. Tores gave Trip's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I think you look wonderful, Trip," he said. 

"Thanks, Tores," Trip grumbled. 

"Who are you supposed to be?" Hoshi asked. 

"Hamlet," Trip grumbled. "All right, let's go, what are we waiting for?" 

"T'Pol isn't here yet," Jon said. 

Malcolm glanced over his shoulder at the doorway and smirked. "Well, speak of the devil." 

T'Pol stood at the door, her normally void expression replaced by one of utter horror. 

Trip guffawed. "You're... Tweety Bird?"


	4. Chapter 4

The crew trooped down the street as excited children streaked past them. T'Pol walked with her feet strangely apart, her furry yellow feet thumping with each step. She lost a feather, which Trip immediately picked up. 

"I think you're shedding, there, T'Pol." 

She turned, not changing her expression except for the raising of one eyebrow. 

"You have a run in your tights, Commander." 

"They're not tights, they're leggings." Either way, Trip dropped his gaze, inspecting first one leg, then the other. His tights were just fine. He raised his head to tell her so, but she had smirked and walked away from him. 

"Psyche," Hoshi grinned. 

He stuck out his tongue. 

Narak was walking slightly ahead of the group, Archer at his side. "Captain Archer, you are certainly invited to join us this evening. The elders are meeting at the edge of the woods at midnight." 

"Part of your Halloween traditions, Counselor?" Jon smiled. 

"It is our hunting season," Narak said pleasantly. "It is the elders' responsibility to gather enough meat to sustain us all through the winter." 

"That must be difficult, to get that much meat," Archer said. Narak smiled. "Actually, some of the animals on our planet are quite large." 

Jon chuckled. "Just how large are we talking about?" 

"Large," Narak said. "And now, let us trick or treat!" 

Narak took Hoshi's hand and led her to a small house. The home's porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the stoop. "Go ahead, my dear," he invited. 

She felt a little silly, but she called out, "Trick or treat!" Immediately, a woman appeared at the door, holding a large dish full of silver-foiled balls. 

"Hello, dear," said the woman, holding out one of the balls. "What a wonderful costume." 

"Thank you," said Hoshi, and as she walked back to her friends, she couldn't suppress a smile. Back in the street, Narak encouraged her to unwrap the silver ball. 

Hoshi held up the unwrapped treat. "It's chocolate...?" 

"An understatement," Narak said. "Our chocolate is ten times creamier than the chocolate you may be used to. It will melt into your mouth instantly. It may cause a slight euphoria." 

Hoshi took a tentative bite, and grinned. Her eyes rolled slightly. "Oh, my God," she said. "This is amazing." She took another bite. "Here, T'Pol, you have to try this." 

"No. Thank you." But Hoshi held the confection to T'Pol's lips, and for fear of insulting her host, T'Pol took the slightest bite. Hoshi took her treat back, took another bite and offered it again to T'Pol. T'Pol took another small bite, hesitated, then took a larger bite. Hoshi smiled and licked her lips. T'Pol smiled, too, and took the candy from Hoshi. T'Pol held it to the woman's lips, and Hoshi's lips parted. 

Trip's jaw dropped. 

Hoshi squealed and said, "There's something inside...?" From the inside of the chocolate ball, she pulled a delicate gold chain. On the end of the chain was a brilliant red stone. 

"Is this a ruby?" Hoshi breathed. 

"A blood stone," Narak said. "We mine them here. Try it on, my dear." 

She did, eagerly, opening the clasp and holding her hair away so T'Pol, popping the remaining chocolate into her mouth, could fasten the clasp around her neck. The pendant fell between Hoshi's breasts, just above her crucifix. 

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you." 

There was a gem in each chocolate ball, and several hours later, Hoshi and T'Pol were encrusted in jewels. T'Pol wore a large pendant between her breasts... a water stone, Narak had called it... as well as several bracelets, rings and earrings. Hoshi was dressed just the same, her neck, ears, fingers and wrists glowing with the stones in the jewelry. The others had politely declined trick-or-treating, perhaps opting to watch Hoshi and T'Pol instead. As the night grew later, the women grew giddier. Now they looked like two girls out on the town during Mardi Gras. Trip guessed they'd flash their breasts in exchange for a trinket. 

Trip's feet began to hurt. They'd been at it for hours. He was ready to collapse from weariness, but the children scurried by, their candy buckets brimming with goodies. 

A quick glance at Malcolm confirmed that he, too, was weary. A slight breeze ruffled Malcolm's black cape, and he pulled it closer to himself to keep out the night air. The mask effectively hid his expression. Trip caught up to him, steeling his nerve. 

"Hey," he greeted. 

Malcolm nodded. "Hello." 

"Are you... doing okay?" 

"As well as can be expected." 

"Hey, what do you think is going on between Hoshi and T'Pol, huh?" Trip grinned and shook his head. "There's an unlikely pair if I ever saw one." 

Malcolm gazed straight ahead, not speaking. 

Trip changed his tactics. "You make a great Phantom," Trip said. "I can almost hear you singing that old showtune. 'Softly, gently, night unfurls its splendor...'" 

"Trip." Malcolm interrupted Trip's off-key serenade. "Trip, don't. Just... don't." Malcolm took a deliberate step away from Trip and avoided the man's gaze. 

Trip faltered. "What, you can't even... look at me?" 

"This hurts," Malcolm blurted. "It hurts and I don't want to talk about it. I don't want you near me." 

Trip looked as if he'd been slapped. "Oh," was all he could muster. 

Malcolm raised his eyes and saw the pain in Trip's face. Malcolm sighed. "I don't intend to lose composure in front of all these people, all right?" 

Wounded, Trip found his tongue long enough to hiss, "You're always so damn worried about your composure." 

Malcolm turned cold grey eyes to him. "I believe this conversation is finished. Sir." 

"Yeah, it sure as hell is, Lieutenant." 

Trip stalked away, only to notice a flash of white skin beneath his taupe-colored tights. This time, he actually did have a run. It must have been all the yanking he'd done while trying to get the damn things on. And now he could feel the cold air on his ass, indicating the run had worked its way up. In fact, he was probably mooning everyone who happened to be behind him. 

Great. 

Without another glance at Malcolm, Trip retreated. He broke into a trot, jogging into the night, heading back toward the palace. In the courtyard, he paused briefly to gaze at the statue of Miera and admire her flawless skin, her still, marble face. 

Something just didn't seem right. 

Dismissing his feelings, he followed the path he and Tores had taken before; into the palace, then a left turn, down a seemingly endless hallway. 

In his quarters, he shucked off the offending tights and slipped into his uniform, since it was the only thing he had. 

There. He felt more like himself. 

He trotted back to his friends and instantly noticed the captain and Narak were no longer among them. 

Decidedly ignoring Malcolm's presence, Trip tapped Hoshi's shoulder. "Hosh, you seen the captain?" 

"They're going to go get ready for the hunt," Hoshi said dreamily. She was sharing another chocolate with T'Pol, both of them licking the chocolate gooeyness from their fingers. 

"By himself? Shouldn't one of us go with him?" 

Malcolm scowled. "I thought it best I stay here and watch over our incapacitated crewmembers." 

The women didn't respond to Malcolm's words; they were too busy licking chocolate from each other's fingers. Trip swore under his breath and jogged to catch up to his captain and friend. 

 

Jon peered into the woods, trying without success to see what lurked behind the dark rows of trees. He didn't yet know what the natives hunted, and he was curious... and nervous... to find out. 

Behind him, Narak and his Counsel stood in a semi-circle, each of them brandishing fatal-looking weapons. Jon suddenly wished he hadn't left his weapon behind in his quarters. Unfortunately, suits of armor didn't come with pockets. 

Narak handed him a weapon; it appeared to be a primitive bow and arrow, revamped to shoot a sort of laser. Archer held it tightly in his hand and asked, "Is there anything I should know about the animals we're hunting?" 

"The animals here travel in herds. Our people have a belief," Narak explained. "We cannot kill any animal until their alpha male is dead." 

Archer eyed him warily. "What does the alpha male look like?" 

Narak smiled, his teeth glinting in the moonlight, and motioned. His men raised their weapons, leveling them at Archer's heart. 

"Alpha Male," Narak said. "You have a five-minute headstart."


End file.
